


held to an ideal of conduct

by theonewiththeeyebrows



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison/Scott - Freeform, Chris Argent/Victoria Argent - Freeform, Chris knows nothing, Derek is into Stiles and Stiles is into Derek, Derek/Stiles is pre-slash, Gerard Argent is a werewolf, Multi, The Code, The underage refers to Derek/Kate, chris argent centric, implied stiles/derek, lost of mistakes, they are emotionally involved but not in a relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonewiththeeyebrows/pseuds/theonewiththeeyebrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mine honor is my life; both grow in one; Take honor from me, and my life is done." - William Shakespeare <br/>"He has honor if he holds himself to an ideal of conduct though it is inconvenient, unprofitable, or dangerous to do so."- Walter Lippmann</p><p>Chris and his code. What more can be said? Why does it matter so much to him? Did he ever question it? How did he come to terms with it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	held to an ideal of conduct

**Author's Note:**

> For purposes of this story: Kate Argent is 14 years older than Derek, rather than the 5 years canon suggests; and that is the underage in the warnings, although it is only implied/overheard and not graphicized (yes, this is not a real word, get over it). 
> 
> Derek/Stiles is implied.
> 
> So, I had a lot of trouble writing this. I wrote a majority of this in one sitting, and then when I'd add to it I'd realize I was using the wrong tense, so I'd have to go back and change it. As a result, this MAY have many grammatical/syntax issues (I tried my best to fix it, but my brain flip flops through tenses a lot, so apologies.). Please forgive me. I was too anxious to get this out there to send it to a beta.

Jeremiah Christopher Argent was ten years old when his when his father told him about werewolves. He had heard his mother yelling at his father, and she had tears in her eyes and a bruise forming high on her cheek when he was called into the kitchen.

He was thirteen when he'd looked his first werewolf in the eye, shotgun cocked and pressed to its skull before its brains were splattered across the basement floor. Its eyes had been scared and pleading, but his father had been so proud. He had a gleam in his eyes and he'd patted Chris on the back and said "Well done, my son!" That night he'd been restless and in the wee hours of the morning he'd felt his mother slide into bed beside him and hold him to her chest while they both cried. 

By the time Chris was twenty-three, he was leading his own group of hunters- an assortment of cousins and distant relatives with the blood of Gévaudan running through their veins. When his sister Kate, fourteen and still green and unsure made her first kill, the satisfaction in her eyes scared Chris. He didn't hear her crying in the night even as he stayed awake, the loss of innocence weighing heavily on his mind. When his mother cracked the door open to check on him at three o'clock in the morning, he sat up with a choked sob, and she held him while he cried tears that his sister did not. 

When Chris was twenty-five, his mother fell sick. His father raged on for days, blaming the werewolves for something they clearly hadn't been responsible for and when Chris would sit with his mother, she'd whisper to him. "Don't ever lose sight of who you are, my dear." She'd say, holding him close to her chest, and Chris would silently wonder who she thought he was, because he wasn't sure he knew. 

"Don't forget that there is the beast and there is the man, and even if the man doesn't turn into the beast, he can still be one." She'd said to him once, deep in her delirium even though there was a sadness in her eyes that spoke of one too many whiskey and bruises that were covered up with concealer and foundation. 

On one of her lucid days, she'd called Chris over to her bed side, "Chris, promise me you won't lose sight of your humanity. You need to know that the creatures you hunt- they aren't good or bad. One can be a wolf and still be more human than you or me. It's only when they lose their humanity that they should be hunted. So promise me. Promise me you will not go back on the code." She'd said, voice stern and eyes pleading. Chris promised even though he had no idea what Code his mother spoke of, but he never got the chance to ask her because that night she'd passed away in her sleep. 

When Chris turned twenty-six he got a package in the mail, a letter from his mother and a box. He cried as he read the words that she'd written to him, a reminder from the grave that he mustn't ever lose sight of the Code, if only he knew what Code. The box held his mother's wedding ring, her blue sapphire necklace set in a platinum wolf-shaped cage, a book that was written in what appeared to be Archaic Latin and a lock of her hair. He remembered the day he'd cut it, it was right before she'd started her treatment and she wanted to preserve a part of herself when she was healthy, so she'd made him braid her hair, a stem of wolfsbane interwoven in it, and then cut it. Kissing the blonde braid, he closed the box and hid it in his closet.

Victoria Hemmingway was an ironic coincidence, not just because of her last-name, but because she yelled at him for making a commotion at the library and then proceeded to translate his mother's book for him. She was beautiful and brilliant and fierce, and when she was done with the book almost a year and a half later, he was a little bit in love with her because what twenty-two year old knew _Archaic French_ like it was her native tongue? But the book had piqued her curiosity and Chris found himself spilling his family secret and asking her to marry him all in one breath. When she finally believed him and agreed to marry him, Chris was the happiest man in the world. When he handed his father, and Kate copied of the translated Code and told his father that he wouldn't be a hunter anymore- it was the first and last time his father had ever hit him. Kate had stopped by a few days later, code in hand, telling him that they followed a revised version of the code, but it was still 'The Code'. Chris didn't believe her. That night he found no comfort as he clutched his mother's cold box to his chest and tried to rock himself to sleep. 

Victoria, when she learned she was pregnant, asked Chris to stop putting his life in danger. When Chris told his father that he would continue designing weapons and take over the military commissions, but he would not hunt, his father raised his hands to strike him, but Chris easily caught his wrist in a strong grip and snarled at his father, _"Even if the man doesn't turn into the beast, he can still be one."_ Gerard staggered backwards when Chris released his hand with a shove. His eyes hardened and the snarl on his face grew deeper but he turned around and stalked away.

When Allison was born, Chris made up his mind to never telling her about their family's history if he could help it. Gerard had tentatively agreed, but when he broke that pact on Allison's fifth birthday when he gave her a book entitled _'La Bête du Gévaudan'_ , he was forbidden from ever come back. Chris gave Allison her grandmother's necklace that year and told her never to take it off. She didn't. Allison was ten when Kate stopped by, the smell of smoke lingering in her hair, and Allison was completely taken with her aunt. "It's my 30th birthday, Chris! Cut me some slack!" She'd sniped at him when he caught her loading her sniper rifle with Indian Aconite bullets. When she left, Allison had cried. As much as he didn't like it, Kate had been a good influence, she was a strong and independent woman, exactly the kind of woman he wanted Allison to grow up to be. When he read about the fire that had almost decimated an entire family, Chris _knew_ what he tried very hard not to believe, the images of Laura and Derek Hale burned into his mind.

When Chris moved to Beacon Hills, he was angry to find himself in the midst of the occult. He wondered if Gerard had set it up so that it would force him back to the field. Allison was sixteen- older than he'd been when he'd killed his first werewolf and Allison didn't even know about the family's sordid affairs- Kate had barely upheld that end of the bargain, but he had wanted to keep Allison safe and as far away from the paranormal as possible. When he saw Derek Hale at the grocery store, his hand reached for the holster at his side, but he looked so lost and scared when his nose twitched, probably catching the scent of wolfsbane residue on his gun, and his eyes flashed blue. 

News of Laura Hale's dismembered body circulated through town and Chris wondered if Derek Hale was capable of such a crime, and it didn't seem likely. He seemed too scared to have mauled multiple residents too, so Chris didn't confront him. When he goes out that night, a couple of his acquaintances from the neighboring towns in tow, he sees Derek Hale, but can feel the presence of a larger, more ferocious wolf. A wolf that had let go of it's humanity. He decided that just this once, for the sake of his family, he'd let Derek Hale lead him to the Alpha. 

There was something odd about Scott McCall and it _wasn't_ because he was dating Allison, but Chris couldn't quite put his finger on it. He kept an eye out for the boy and besides the Sheriff's son, a mouthy sixteen year old who lied every time he opened his mouth, it didn't seem like he had any friends. But then Allison asked him to go to the Lacrosse game with her- and Scott McCall was a werewolf. _Destiny is a fickle bitch_ , he mused as Victoria got ready for bed while making her dislike for her daughter dating a werewolf known.

When Kate came into town guns blazing, Chris knew it wasn't going to end well, but it was when he saw Derek Hale with Stiles, the Sheriff's son, parked at the side of the road looking paler as death, he knew for certain that Kate had hit him with Nordic Blue and that it was all going to go to hell. Seeing Scott in his garage had been both a curse and a blessing, and he knew exactly what to do to make sure he stayed for dinner. It was awkward, but Chris was fairly certain he had managed to procure what he needed to save Derek.

"What were you thinking?" He snarled at Kate after he'd made sure Allison was fast asleep in her bed. He had just shot and killed a mountain lion in the school parking lot, and he just _knew_ she was the one behind it.

"I was thinking that we gave the Sheriff what he needed and now _we_ can go hunting!" Kate's sinister smile did nothing to ease Chris' mind, but his need to fix the problem plaguing Beacon Hills was far greater than his disapproval of Kate's methods. He wondered when his sister had become so heartless, but he could see the same manic gleam in her eyes that he was used to seeing in his fathers. 

It was coincidence when he stumbled upon Kate torturing Hale in the cellar of his own burned down house. Horrified at learning that she'd seduced a fifteen year old to exact vengeance on the family, he tripped his way up the stairs and threw up in front of the desolate house. His heart went out to the boy, he'd truly lost everything and was burdened with a guilt that couldn't have been easy to bear for the past six years. He knew then that Hale was innocent of the murders that were taking place around the town, but he was no closer to figuring out who it could have been. 

When Stiles confirms what he'd knows for years. He headed for the Hale house unable to ignore it anymore. He wished he didn't have to, but the code had been violated so severely. He could still remember the news articles '8 Dead in Mysterious Fire'. How could that ever be justified? Where was the honor in that?

Kate had her gun pointed at Scott, and Allison looked like she was on the verge of tears by the time Chris made it out to the Hale house. He pulled his own gun on his sister, disgusted at her lack of honor- but in a way it didn't surprise him. He watched, helplessly, as Peter Hale slit her throat. But he cannot justify her actions- they were blasphemous by the code. When Derek killed Peter, he was almost relieved. But what would a boy who's lost everything do with all that power? 

He watched helplessly as Lydia Martin ran away and the killings started again. He greeted his father with a civil tongue when he arrived for Kate's funeral and he bore the hunter gatherings as best as he could, even though he disagreed with the mindless bloodshed. He was forced to train Allison because the cat was out of the bag and he'd rather she be able to protect herself. He watched are Derek turned three more teenagers into werewolves, but he still cannot warrant his execution, because although the murders are suspect, they don't look like the work of a werewolf.

Victoria stumbling towards him, bloodied and marked, was the first time that Chris ever questioned the code. It was the first time he wondered if perhaps his father was correct and they are just savage beasts that need to be put out of their misery. He held Victoria close and helped her push the blade into her heart even though it felt like it was his own heart that was being stabbed. He watched as the inhuman glow of the wolf faded out of her eyes before he stood up and called 911. It wasn't until after Allison had cried herself to sleep that he opened the bathroom door, pulled out the loosened tile, opened his mother's box that was hidden there, and let himself cry. He could still feel Victoria's warm blood on his hands even though it had long been washed away. He curled up on the floor, letter clutched to his heart, and prayed to whichever God might exist to give him the strength to hold on and fulfill his mothers dying wish. 

He watched Allison's eyes turn cold, the way her muscles tensed up. He watched as she trained harder and learned faster than any other hunter he's ever known. He tried to hand her the code as he asked her what she was willing to do, and how far she was willing to go, but she disregarded it. It broke his heart to see his little girl, the one he tried to protect from this world, become the very monster he saw in his father. He could see Kate in her eyes as she said it- "then we'll kill them. All of them." as though she wasn't in love with Scott McCall. 

Derek has him by the throat as soon as he enters the lair. "What do you want, Argent?"

"You are really bad at this, Derek." Chris shrugs him off and walks around the space. "I just came to talk." 

"Dere- wha- what's going on?" Chris is surprised to see the Sheriff's boy come out of Derek's subway car looking sleep-rumpled and rubbing his eyes. Derek moves to him, pushing him towards the door, whispering to him. The worry in the boys eyes morphs into surprise before he goes back inside the car, Derek's hand lingering on his lower back as he stumbles over the step. 

"Did you turn him?" Chris asks sternly, anger barely concealed. 

"No." Derek's eyes flash with a warning. 

"Then what is he doing here? He's not a werewolf, why is he hanging out here?" He struggles to finish the question when Derek pins him to the wall, but he forces it out. 

"You do not come to my territory and question me about my pack." Derek snarls, spit flying from his mouth and eyes glowing an unearthly red.

"Pack? A Human? I thought humans couldn't be a part of a pack." Something in his face must've shown, because Derek pulls back and drags a hand through his hair.

"No, we had humans and werewolves in our pack. The wolf wants what the wolf wants so it wasn't unusual to have human pack-mates, we're not monsters, we don't force the bite on people, we let them choose. It's what made Kate's betrayal worse, forget the werewolves for the minute, there were kids who were human in that house."

"Oh!" There is very little that surprises Chris. This is one of those things that does- color him surprised. Very surprised. A part of him wonders what the boy is to this Alpha. The hand on his lower back and the whisper in his ear are telling, but he isn't one to jump to conclusions and yet the rumpled sleepiness is something he can't get out of his head. A monster cannot be tamed. 

It's much later that Chris realizes just how wrong he was. Peter was the monster. Derek was the savior. His father was the monster. But was _he_ supposed to be the savior? Derek gave no attention to Gerard as he rushed to Stiles' prone body, bloody from where Allison shot him and Chris could see the frantic worry in his eyes. He saw Gerard smirk, as he popped another pill, an inhuman gleam in his eyes and it hit him. Gerard was the very monster he'd been hunting all his life. Gerard was the one who bit Victoria. Gerard played him like the New York Philharmonic Orchestra, and turned his daughter into a vindictive hunter too. 

He barely remembered it, one minute he's watching Gerard, looking like the cat that got the cream and the canary, lifting his gun to the back of Derek's head and the next he'd shot Gerard right between the eyes. 

He doesn't know if he's surprised. He doesn't know if he's shocked. His family was dead. Mother, Father, Sister and Wife. He wondered if Allison would make it through this ordeal. But even as the thought entered his mind, he could see the way she gripped Scott's jacket as though he was the only one in the world that mattered. Derek nodded at him in acknowledgement as he picked the Sheriff's boy and carried him to his car. 

Chris fell to his knees then, the butt of the gun pressed against his cheek. He dropped it on the ground before he let himself fall apart. Maybe now that it was all finally over, everything can be okay.

Christopher Jeremiah Argent was forty-five when everything he'd ever known was turned upside down. The monsters he'd hunted all his life were the ones he could trust and the people he'd trusted all his life were the worst kind of monsters. His mother had once told him to never change who he was and he hadn't understood what that had meant, but when he'd lost everything to a war without a cause, he finally understood what she had meant.

**Author's Note:**

> Hemming as a name means 'werewolf' and so I'm assuming that Hemmingway means 'the way of the werewolf'.


End file.
